Red, Lace Panties
by x-Miyako-x
Summary: Grell is going on a date with Undertaker tonight. He wants to look his absolute best. (Special Guest Appearance: Ronald Knox).


Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji. It and the characters belong to Yana Toboso. I make no profit from writing this.

* * *

Grell hummed to himself, a light, cheerful tune, as he pranced about her house. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he went about preparing himself for the lovely evening to come.

"Oh, and what a night it will be!" he cheered.

Grell left the washroom in preference of his bedroom. He approached his wardrobe, pulling from it the corset he'd finally purchased only a few days prior, which he promptly tossed onto the bed. Next, he slid over to the chest of drawers under the window and took out a pair of lace panties – red, of course – and some stockings. These he threw on the bed as well. That done, he grabbed his Dispatch-issued communicator and sent a message to Ronald:

_Ready when you are._

And after a moment:

_Door is unlocked._

With that, he re-entered the adjoining washroom and sat on the lowered toilet-lid. From the counter he plucked a small bottle of red polish which he has taken out earlier in anticipation, kicked one foot up onto the edge of the bathtub and proceeded to paint his toenails.

That was exactly how Ronald found him only a few minutes later, when he arrived. The blond knocked to announce his presence but did not wait for a response before letting himself. He jogged up the stairs and into Grell's room, "Yo! Miss Grell?"

"In here darling," Grell called out, and Ronald went to her.

"Oi!" the blond started in surprise and quickly turned his back. "Ya should'a told me you weren't dressed."

"Oh, don't be silly, Ronnie," Grell chuckled, "I'm covered where it counts."

"Ah..." Ronald didn't seem convinced, "If you're really sure..." He turned back towards the red head who was just finishing his nails. "So,uh," Ronald scratched his neck, "What was it you needed my help with again?"

"Oh, just something quick," Grell assured, "I just need a bit of help with my clothes."

"Ah... Miss Grell, haven't I already told you, I'm a girls-in-uniforms kinda guy? I don't think there's much in your closet I could help you with."

"Not like that, you dolt," Grell snapped affectionately, "I need you to tie my corset!"

"Oh!" Ronaled brightened considerably, "I can do that. It's not too complicated, is it?"

Grell shook his head and recapped the bottle of polish, placing it in the cabinet above the sink, "All you've got to do is tighten it and then tie it," he explained as he returned to her room. He stood by the bed and twirled his finger in circles meaning for Ronald to turn.

"Why couldn't you just wear a normal uniform like all the other girls at work?" Ronald sighed and turned to face the other way, leaning in the doorway to the washroom. "It might, i don't know, feel nice for you and all," he cringed at the thought, "but a regular bra is hard _enough_ to remove... So _that_?"

Grell dropped his nodded thoughtfully as he pulled his panties on. "True, but I'm not like all the other girls, Ronnie. Or hadn't you noticed?" He pulled the towel back around him, but lowered it to hang around his hips. "Besides, we wouldn't want you crushing on poor, old _me_ now, would we?"

"I guess not," Ronald laughed, "Don't know how much William would like _that_ one – to have us _both_ distracted all the time."

"Oh, that Will," Grell sighed, "Always getting in the way of true love!" He picked up the corser from the bed and pulled it over his head, leaving the lacing to hang loosely behind his back. "You can turn around now."

And so Ronald did, offering Grell a smile as he went to stand behind him. Then he gasped, "Oh. That's... Uh... That's a lot of laces..."

Grell chuckled, "Don't freak yourself out or anything." He held the corset with onearm and pulled his hair out of the way with the other. "Just start from the top and work your way down."

"Ah, alright," Ronald took a deep breath and slowly approached, taking hold of the top lace awkwardly.

"Oh, come on Ronnie," Grell whined, "You tie your shoes, don't you? I even laced it up for you. All you have to do it tighten it until you get to the bottom."

"I guess that makes enough sense..." Ronald began pulling at row after – _tighter_ – row of laces. _Tighter Ronald! _"Uh, why does this need to be so tight exactly? This kinda seems like overkill."

"It is to emphasize a lady's –" he grunted as Ronald tightened another row, "figure."

"And how does squashing it emphasize anything?" Ronald asked with a chuckle. Really, women put themselves through too much.

"It just does, Ronnie," Grell said with a sigh, "It allows the clothes to be shaped to the exact figure of any woman."

"But then –"

"You're not pulling tightly enough, _Ronald Knox_!"

"Yes, ma'am," the younger reaper laughed, "So why're you doing all this anyway?"

"Why Ronnie," Grell cheered up, "I thought I'd told you, darling. I have a date tonight with a lovely gentleman!"

"And this 'gentleman' couldn't help you with this _because_?"

Grell scoffed, "A gentleman helps his lady _out_ of her clothes, not into them. It's a lady's job to make him _want_ to take them off."

"Well alright then," Ronald agreed, "Glad I'm not gonna be taking this off... So, how do I tie it?"

"However you like," Grell replied, "Just make sure it holds," and just as Ronald was about to simply knot it, "and don't forget that it needs to come off?"

"Heh," Ronald giggled nervously, "Right. That might rain on your parade a bit, huh?"

"Mhm," Grell hummed as Ronald tied off the laces in a double bow and stepped back. "All done?"

"All done," Ronald nodded, "Not so bad for my first time."

Grell laughed as he went to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, "Not bad all," he agreed. "Now you'll know what to do next time."

"Oh, uh, gosh," Ronaled shrugged, "I guess so."

"Thanks Ronnie," Grell smiled at him in the mirror before turning around quickly to hug him.

"No problem, Miss Grell."

Grell quick-stepped right back into the washroom, "I've got to finish getting ready now," he said, "You're welcome to stay if you want."

Ronald checked his watch, "Well, I've got to pick up Becky from 5th in a bit, but I've got time."

"Becky, huh?" Grell smirked as he pulled out his makeup. "That's... Three times now?"

"Four actually," Ronald admitted sheepishly, "We had lunch last week."

"Ah," Grell smiled, "think she's the one then?"

"Nah... Maybe? I don't know," Ronald frowned, "And don't give me that look. I don't know alright?"

"That's your business," Grell said with a flip of his hand, and returned to applying his eyeliner. "Just think it'd be really cute to see you settle down."

"I'm not really the type," Ronald grumbled, "Not yet anyway."

"I suppose not," Grell sighed and put his eyeliner away and pulled a pair of false lashes from the small makeup bag.

Ronald watched curiously as Grell placed the lashes delicately and pressed them on properly, "Don't you already have –"

"Really, Ronald?"

"Heh, sorry..."

Grell nodded and puckered his lips in front of the mirror, smoothing on some lipstick. "What do you think, Ronnie?"

"Still not my type," Ronald chimed, "but it looks nice."

"Thanks," Grell smiled and tossed the lipstick into the small bag, and hid the bag under the sink.

The red head slipped past Ronald, back into the bedroom, "Think you'll want to turn around for this part," Grell mumbled as he sat on the bed. "I've got to put my stockings on."

"Right-o," Ronald saluted and turned his back once more.

Grell, meanwhile, rolled his stockings over each foot and pulled them up to his hips. With a happy grin, he snapped the band and released it loudly against his skin. Ronald started but the older reaper reassured him that he was fine. "And now for the finishing touch..."

The red head made his way to the closet from which he removed a Victorian-styled dress. Their people may have been more advanced in style and technology than humans, but Grell was fond of the dresses of that era. His lover had taken him to an expensive tailor in London, where his measurements had been taken without question and several designs had been presented to him. He'd been able to pick his favourite and the material it would be made of and its colours. The result was beautiful, though the other had yet to see it. Grell had picked it up from the shop earlier the same day.

* * *

Undertaker hummed and chuckled to himself as he danced around his shop, "And then," he spoke to the skull in his hand, "I asked her out to dinner." He danced around for another moment to the tune in his mind, placing the skull on his desk before throwing his arms out wide, "And she said yes!"

He pulled himself from his fantasies with a sigh, "And now my dears," he addressed his guests in various stages of decomposition, "I must make _myself_ pretty for a change." He laughed to himself and made his way to the bedroom he rarely used. "I think... Yes, _that_ will do nicely."

Undertaker let himself into the back room and up the stairs to the next floor. With a twirl he let himself into his nearly abandoned bedroom. He took a deep breath and smiled, the room smelled faintly of flowers. The sheets, which had previously been covered in a fine layer of dust, had been washed and taken outside to hang dry. He'd even dusted the entire room and collected the few flowers he'd managed to grow from his own small garden and stuffed them all together in a vase to product an awkward-looking though nicely scented bouquet.

Undertaker went to the wardrobe and took from its confines a uniform he hadn't seen in years, and hadn't worn in much longer. The suit had been washed with the sheets and hung to dry the very same day, now left smelling fresh rather than the must scent that had hung to it from being stuffed away for so long. He placed the suit on his bed before stripping of his current outfit. The coats and trousers he'd been wearing were tossed carelessly into a wash-bin in the corner of the room before he left it.

To the linen closet in the hallway Undertaker went, taking out a washcloth and a large fluffy towel. He took them with him into the washroom and dropped them on the ground next to the tub. This and the front room were the only two he used regularly – not counting the autopsy room – and thus the only two that were also _cleaned_ regularly. Undertaker turned on the faucet on the tub and let the water run as he searched the washroom for his soaps and a certain other item.

He grinned at finding his soaps by the sink and chuckled to himself as he noticed the little, yellow duck fallen sideways to roll next to one claw of the tub. The soaps were placed on top of the towel and tossed the little duck into the bath before slipping in. He hissing at the warmth of the water and cursing himself at not having checked its temperature beforehand. Undertaker shut the warm water and, after a few seconds, the cold water as well. He swished his arms around the water to even it all out and sank back.

With a sigh, Undertaker shut his eyes and pulled his long hair into the water as well. His bath did not take as long as it normally did, though it was still considerably longer than anyone with only a few inches of hair. The little duck floated innocently about him as he washed, there more for amusement than any real interest. Ready to dress at last, Undertaker pulled himself up, wrapping the incredible length of his hair around his arm and wringing it out before he stepped from the tub.

He left his hair down; though its wet touch along his back annoyed him slightly, it would need to dry quickly. He pulled the stopper from the tub and watched as the water drained slowly. He stood entranced for a moment more, even after the water was gone before moving again. Undertaker picked up the large, fluffy towel from the ground and pulled his hair forward. It always amused him to towel dry his hair, since there was usually too much of it to be properly contained in the towel at one time. Satisfied that he'd done all he could for now, he tossed it back over his shoulder and wrapped the towel around his waist.

Undertaker, deciding to give his hair a chance, returned downstairs, in nothing _but_ his towel and, hoping no one had wandered in while he was upstairs, entered the main room. He grinned to himself at finding the room pleasantly empty of all but his usual, silent guests. He walked to the door and stood behind it, cracked it open, snuck his naked arm out, and flipped the sign to 'closed'. No doubt he must have frightened some sensitive soul in the process, but that only made him laugh.

* * *

"Woah!" Ronald gasped, "That's... I take all that back – what I said about you wearing normal clothes and all. That's a really kick ass dress. It's not... Well, it wouldn't be good for anything _but_ going on a date, but it's pretty sick!"

Grell flushed and twirled lightly in front of the mirror, "Thanks, Ronnie. You really think so?"

"Oh, yeah! It's totally rad!" Ronald leaned from left to right as Grell turned, as though trying to see every angle at once. "It's pretty awesome. Did you have that made just for tonight?"

Grell nodded shyly, "Ah, yeah... He um... He took me to the shop and they took my measurements and everything."

"Oh wow," Ronald seemed impressed, "So who is this guy anyway?"

"Um..." Grell paused, unsure of whether or not he should tell, "Well... We kind of don't really want to make a big deal out of it..."

"Then don't," Ronald said, "You're kinda making it one by saying that and avoiding the question."

"Oh," Grell laughed, "I guess you're right, huh?" He turned away from the mirror, finally and towards the blond, but glanced down at his feet, "It's uh... Undertaker."

"What?" Ronald gave Grell a funny look, "That creepy, old coot?"

"He's not creepy!" Grell defended, "Well, okay... Maybe he is. Sometimes! He's also really sweet and I know – I believe him – when he says he cares about me, and then he does – care for me that is."

"Well, that's good I suppose. That's what's important."

* * *

Undertaker grinned, finally his hair was dry. He'd taken to cleaning up his old study and dusting the guest room he'd never used to pass the time. Now, at last, he could dress. His trousers of choice, as usual – a habit which he really _had_ tried to lose over the years – were put on without underwear. Then the boots – which had been sitting silently next to the door to the garden for decades now – were pulled on and tied up. He felt much lighter, and definitely less restricted, with these. Finally he picked up the crisp white shirt – this a new one he'd purchased as the older had been permanently stained with age – and slipped it on. The buttons were swiftly tied – a few decades would not rid him of the mechanical memory that strong – and the bottom then stuffed into his trousers. He added a belt he'd found lying about, whether it was the right one, he knew not. Finally, he pulled on his suit jacket and the coat to keep warm in this fall weather.

Undertaker came to stand before a blurry mirror – it seems he'd missed that during his cleaning – and smiled softly. It had been over 50 years since he'd worn this outfit. And it would like be even longer until the next time he would do so. He turned to the bed-side table and sighed. He'd asked Lawrence for a personal favour this time. Off the record. They weren't registered and couldn't be traced. He'd been wearing them for some of his operations as opposed to the cheap human-made ones he'd bought. These were the real deal. Undertaker picked up the glasses case slowly, almost reluctantly, and took his glasses – _his_ glasses – from them. He couldn't see his reflection much better with them on – that mirror would really need to bed cleaned – but for the first time since he'd met Grell, tonight, he would be able to see his lady properly.

The final touches almost in place, Undertaker picked a hair tie from the small table and started braiding the one plait he kept behind his ear. Finished with that, he pulled the entirety of his hair into a loose, high ponytail and held it up with another tie. Done. Finally. Now he was ready.

Undertaker hadn't made an appearance in the world of the Reapers since his last, slightly disastrous, visit to the Library. He assumed his appearance would definitely draw some attention this time. Undertaker carefully opened his personal portal to his home realm and climbed through, glad to see that he indeed found himself in an alley. No initial shock at least, but oh, how wrong he was. They saw him. They _all_ saw him. And they all stared.

The moment Undertaker stepped from the shadows of the alley, everything froze around him, almost as though time itself had stopped. Now that would just be silly, he thought to himself, but it certainly seemed that way. Seeing as there would be no chance to go by unseen any longer, Undertaker bowed his head to those present in the street and went on his merry way.

One left and three rights later and he found himself in front of Grell's house.

* * *

The doorbell ring caught Grell and Ronald's attention.

"He's here," Grell squeaked, "Oh god, he's here. Ronnie! I'm not ready!"

"What do you mean, you're not ready?" Ronald laughed, "You've only got your shoes left to put on. And your coat."

"But mentally, Ronnie, emotionally... I'm so not ready," Grell whined. "I've never actually been on a date befor –"

"What? Never?" Ronald coughed in surprise, "No way! You who's always going on about some guy or another..."

"Well it's not like any of them have ever been so willing to ask me out to dinner, have they?"

"Wait... You mean – _he_ asked _you_?"

"Gentleman," Grell sang and finally made her way downstairs, quickly, but holding the railing tightly so as to prevent a fall.

"Yeah but, you were always," Ronald shook his head and followed after Grell, "wouldn't it be nice for him to have just agreed?"

"Oh yes," Grell nodded, "But a gentleman never makes his lady wait." And with that she pulled the door open with a wide smile, "Hello my lo –" Words fell from his lips at the sight that awaited him. Bright green eyes stared back at him behind black-rimmed glasses.

"Hello Grell, my sweet rose," Undertaker grinned, "Am I late?"

Grell finally broke out of his trance with a sigh, "It should be criminal to look so handsome," he cried. "You're not late, my love. Never late."

"Oh good," Undertaker chuckled, "I wondered there for a moment. You looked so shocked to see me."

"Y-you just..." Grell shook his head for a moment, unable to find the right words and finally he settled on, "Beautiful."

"Why thank you, miss," Undertaker bowed, "I should say the same to you, my rose. Tonight is, after all the first time I have been blessed with the clear sight of your beautiful face."

"So uh... I'll be going now," Ronald mumbled, "Got my own date 'n' all."

"Of course," Grell stepped to the side to let Ronald through, "Thanks for the help darling."

"No problem Miss Grell," Ronald waved as he started on his way, "You guys have a nice evening!"

Undertaker would have tipped his hat at the boy, but wore none, so settled for nodding instead. "We should probably be off now, my rose. We have a reservation after all."

"Of course, my love," Grell smiled happily, "Let me just get my shoes." He stepped back inside shortly, slipping on the heels he usually wore and grabbed his keys. He was about to leave when Undertaker stopped him.

"You ought to bring a coat, dear," the elder explained, "It may be nice and warm here, but 'tis quite cold down there at the moment."

"Ah, yes," Grell smiled. Undertaker took the red head's coat from where it hung by the door and held it up for him to put on, "Thank you darling."

"Let us go then," Undertaker pressed a short kiss to Grell's cheek before taking his hand and leading the way. He paused at the door, allowing the younger reaper to lock the door before leading him to the middle of the front yard, where Undertaker promptly created a portal to return them to the mortal realm they were both so fond of.

* * *

Grell couldn't wipe the smile from his lips if he tried, he was happier than he'd ever been before. Undertaker was, as he'd told Ronald several times, a complete gentleman. The man kiss his hand, held his arm as they walked, opened doors for him, pulled out and pushed in his chair. It truly wasn't so hard to pay a bit of attention to another, after all, Grell returned the favour. He kissed Undertaker's cheek, and placed his head on the taller reaper's shoulder, curtsied and thanked him when he held the door. As expected, this was turning out to be the night of his dreams.

"Have you decided what you'd like to eat, my rose?" Undertaker asked. "I would like to recommend something, but I've not the motivation to eat at a place like this all by me lonesome."

"Well, this," Grell flipped the menu around to face Undertaker and pointed, "This doesn't look too horrible."

"Ah, yes," Undertaker chuckled, "I actually _see_. That does look quite good. Perhaps I shall order that myself. However, to tell you the truth... I am much more interested in dessert." He gave the red head a pointed look.

"Oh, well," Grell flushed. "I myself always prefer a sweet treat. Perhaps, something with cream?"

"Ah," Undertaker nodded, "Not a bad idea, I myself am quite fond of banana splits. Perhaps with a cherry on top?"

Grell gasped and hid his shy smile behind one hand, "I may get one for myself as well, though I would have to give you my cherry."

Undertaker burst into riotous laughter, garnering the attention of several quiet diners. "Oh, my sweet, little rose," he took her hand once more and kissed it, "How you amuse me."

Their orders for dinner were soon placed with the waiter. The man was kind enough to explain to them exactly what the dish consisted of and the couple agreed on it together. Their evening was rife with unresolved sexual tension, arousal and countless innuendo. The endlessly coming bottles of wine did not seem to be of much help.

Once their dinner was concluded, Grell excused himself briefly, "I must freshen up, darling. A lady must always look her best."

"Of course, Grell-dear," Undertaker nodded. "I shall take care of the bill while you are away."

And so he did. And so Grell did as well. The red head made his way to the restrooms, for once, unashamed of entering the ladies' room. He was even greeted by a lovely brunette with whom he almost collided as she was leaving. He stood before the mirror and gently wiped excess makeup from beneath his eyes and made sure he hadn't gotten lipstick all over his face as he ate. And suddenly, an idea came to him.

Grell entered one of the bathroom stalls of the ladies' room and locked the small door. He grew nervous as he dug through his skirts to reach the bottom... What if Undertaker reacted badly? No. He wouldn't let his mind wander. After the lovely evening they'd had, and those terrible puns! He reached the hem of his dress, finally and pulled it up with one hand. The other held him up as he leaned against the wall. He slipped one shoe of with the toe of the opposite foot. Carefully, he balanced his weight on one foot and pulled his stockings down to his knees, removing one foot and stood straight once again.

He panted, nearly breathless. Grell couldn't believe it. He was aroused. The thought of doing such a thing, of course, had seemed erotic, but he'd feared the act would leave him terrified and uncomfortable. On the contrary. Now. As he slid his lace, red panties over his legs to rest over his one dressed ankle, he had to bite back a groan. After a few deep breaths, he regained his position of balance and pulled his stockings on and up once more, feeling the slightly roughened texture against his cock more fully, now that he wore no underwear.

The urge to thrust himself into a palm full of material was strong, but he resisted. Barely. He took his time putting on his shoe, taking deep, calming breaths as he did so. Satisfied that his clothes was properly back into position, he switched his balance to the other foot, lifted the panties from his ankle and finally dropped the hem of his dress. He straightened out the layers frantically and sighed. It was done.

He couldn't very well change his mind now. It would take too long to put the panties on again and Undertaker would be worried. Grell took a look at the underwear in his hand and whimpered. He rolled them into a small ball and clutched them within his fist. Hiding his hand within the folds of his dress, the red head made his way back to the dining room. Undertaker stood as Grell approached and once again held out the red coat for him to put on.

Grell did so, smiling as he did. Once he was sure the coat was one properly and Undertaker was looking at him expectantly, he saw his opportunity. Grell leaned forward and stuffed his hand into Undertaker's coat pocket, whispering only a hair's breadth away from his lips, "That's for dessert," and pulled away. The nervous red reaper turned away and swiftly headed for the door, flushed almost as red at the material now sitting in his lover's pocket.

Undertaker stood by the table they'd occupied for dinner, in shock. What was that all in aid of? Perhaps Grell had had a little bit too much wine with dinner? He shoved his hand into his pocket curiously, wondering what his lady may have left there for him to find, and gasped. Lace. Whatever it was, it was made of lace. He caressed the material as though it would reveal its secrets to him. Shaking his head, Undertaker made his way to the door where Grell waited. There weren't many things it could have been.

As he reached the entrance, he noticed one of the lamps had gone out, casting a dark shadow over the entrance. Perfect! Undertaker pulled the small wad of material from his pocket. Red. It was _red_ lace. With a shrug, he stretched the material and there, in the shady entry-way of a fancy, high-end restaurant, after a dinner with his love, Undertaker finally understood. They were her panties.

Grell's red, lace panties.

* * *

**A/N: This went in a slightly different direction than intended, but the end result was the same, thankfully. I hope that at least makes up for the ridiculously long "intro" that makes up more than half of this fic.**

**Do let me know what you think. I live off replies like a demon feeds on souls.**


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